


Now I'm Covered In The Colors, Pulled Apart At The Seams

by RedBlazer



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Color Blindness, Ginny in the Minors, Ginny-centric, Human Disaster Mike Lawson, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9885500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBlazer/pseuds/RedBlazer
Summary: It happens at quite literally the worst moment. Not only because it’s the first time in about three months Ginny’s been able to smile, but also because she’s surrounded by 30,000 people while the bases are loaded and Mike Lawson just stepped up to the plate.The world flickers and in an instant she understands what her teacher meant when she told their class that the sky was blue and the grass was green, because they’re both stretched out before her seat in the stands. A vibrantly lush green field bisected by the fine silty dirt she now recognizes as brown. And above, a massive light blue sky, shot through with puffy white clouds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the classic Tumblr prompt of 'Everyone is colorblind until they see their soulmate' with a Pitch twist and bit of angst because I can't stop myself.
> 
> Blame Halsey and my drive home today.
> 
> Enjoy!

It happens at quite literally the worst moment. Not only because it’s the first time in about three months Ginny’s been able to smile, but also because she’s surrounded by 30,000 people while the bases are loaded and Mike Lawson just stepped up to the plate.

The world flickers and in an instant she understands what her teacher meant when she told their class that the sky was blue and the grass was green, because they’re both stretched out before her seat in the stands. A vibrantly lush green field bisected by the fine silty dirt she now recognizes as brown. And above, a massive light blue sky, shot through with puffy white clouds.

She misses the play as Lawson drives a ball over the stadium wall and every single player crosses home base.

Instead, she’s staring at her own hands and their hue, the places where calluses have worn her skin to a slightly darker shade. And then, in the realization of what this means, she stands from her seat and stares into the crowd at anyone else having the same reaction.

Because it happened.

She saw them, the person deemed to be her soulmate according to biology.

Her heart is thumping so hard she can feel it in her throat. Ginny pulls off her baseball cap, an inky dark blue and contrasting orange—not what she would have picked, but hey—and holds it in her hands, the brim of it cutting into her hands. If this is really happening, then whoever is on the other end of this connection must be feeling the same thing.

She squints her eyes against the sun, scouring as far as she can see in the stands for anyone who looks like their whole world’s been rocked in the last minute. Instead many other people are standing and clapping, cheering for the four runs the Padres just scored.

It really throws a wrench into figuring out who her soulmate is supposed to be.

“Gin?” A voice sounds to her right and when she looks down, Will’s staring up at her, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. “You okay?” he asks her.

Ginny abruptly sits down, slipping the hat back onto her head, aware and a bit embarrassed by what she must look like. Her eyes can’t stop moving over everything, relearning everything about the world and the people in it.

“Thinking about dad?” Will asks her, slinging an arm over her shoulder.

And no. For the first time since the accident she hadn’t been, which is the worst part of it all, really. They’re on their ‘celebration of the old man’ trip to San Diego before Ginny leaves for the minors in April, six months from now. Of course it had to include seeing the Padres and secretly sprinkling dad’s ashes somewhere they won’t get arrested for it.

“Yeah.” Ginny lies, and there’s a tear leaking out of the corner of her eye that wasn’t there a second ago. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, guilty.

This isn’t about her and if dad was here, he’d be the first person to tell her that her career should be her number one priority, not the prospect of some person she’s never met feeling the same thing she is.

Like she knows what it is to see. She’s one of the _those_ people who got a perfect match.

A sharp pang of sadness hits her square in the chest, echoed in the feeling she gets when she bites her bottom lip.

There isn’t time for this.

Not when her family is counting on her to make up for fifteen years of every moment being focused on her arm and what it could do.

The sky is turning from blue to a striking pink in the sunset by the time the seventh inning stretch happens. She and Will stand up and sing because it what dad would want. But Ginny’s cheeks feel hot and there’s a shake in her hands as she stares out at the sea of blue and orange fans before her, knowing that somewhere in this mass of people is someone else finally seeing just what a mess it is to dress like a Padres fan.

 

\-----

 

Ginny keeps it quiet in the minors, and it’s easy enough when she makes it clear to every person on the team that she’s off limits romantically. There are still the instances of a new shortstop or outfielder who thinks it’s funny to stumble at their first meeting and proclaim that they can finally see the world in color.

But they don’t know how it spills out in Technicolor for Ginny.

And if she doesn’t get to meet the person who she made the connection with, that’s okay, because at least she gets to have this part.

 

\-----

 

Blip and Evelyn are about as disgusting pair to be around in public as they are in private. They knew the instant they saw each other. Because of course they did. And they still look at each other in that infatuated way all these years later.

Ginny's stretched out on the couch in their apartment while they argue in the kitchen about the exact shade of blue Blip looks best in. Evelyn tells him it’s Padres blue and Ginny’s inclined to agree.

She doesn’t get to tell anyone that it’s her favorite color.

Blip’s gone before the end of the season.

 

\------

 

Trevor seems surprised Ginny’s willing to go for it when they’re not matched.

But she’s been waiting for so long, and maybe she can pretend he’s enough.

“I just didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” He tells her, thinking it’s a compliment. They’re laying under the dark green coverlet in the hotel the team put them up in for this stretch of away games. There’s a yellowed stain on the ceiling by the door. Water damage.

Ginny rolls over, looking him directly in the eyes. They’re dark brown, like coffee beans, darker than her own. But he wouldn’t know that.

“I’m not any kind of girl.” Ginny tells him flatly. “And please tell me the last time you were shamed for being in a relationship with someone who you weren’t matched with.”

Trevor holds up both of his hands.

“Never. It’s never happened. There are just girls—women—people who are obsessed with finding _the one_. They won’t even take a chance on spending time with someone who might just be fine for right now. My mom and dad aren’t matched. They’re still happy.” He’s trying to reassure her that she’s not wasting her time with him.

And Ginny knows that she isn’t.

Because what are the odds that she runs into her soulmate ever again?

 

\------

 

The globes of the peaches covering every inch of her hotel room are a lovely light orange, fading into pink. Their velvety exteriors look soft to the touch as she stares at them from her place in bed, waiting for her alarm to go off. The yellow glow of the sun through the curtains slowly stretches across the room until she can ignore this day no longer. Because this is it.

The alarm goes off with a shrill chime.

Ginny walks to the bathroom and stands before the mirror, fiddling with the straps of her tank top.

She focuses on small details rather than the massive responsibility on her shoulders in order to get through her day.

Amelia’s eyes are the same bright blue as the sea, as clichéd as it sounds. It’s true.

Elliot’s red backpack makes him an easy target to follow in a crowd.

The little girl who asks her for an autograph has a bright pink gel pen.

The clubhouse is a surprisingly refined palette of warm wood and dark blue.

The white of her uniform contrasts in such a lovely way with the dark blue lettering of her name and that historic number across the back of it.

The field is somehow even more green when she steps onto it.

Mike Lawson’s beard is shot through with gray and a hit of red. The sunglasses resting on the brim of the hat reflect an electric blue that shifts to orange with the way he tilts his head.

That’s as far as it gets her, that little trick. A few hours of some peace and now every molecule in Ginny’s body is aware that Mike Lawson is standing 30 feet from her. She falters for a way to look natural.

Ah, random stretching. That will do.

She bends her leg, tucking her foot up to her backside in a practiced move from years of warm-ups.

He somehow comes off as confident even as he drops and picks up his glove, sauntering up to her with a somewhat lackluster greeting. His hazel eyes are intent on searching her face, judging the metal of her worth.

“Well, this is surprising.” Mike says, scratching his beard.

Ginny gulps, trying to remain calm. “For me too, still really looking forward to working with you—I’ve been a huge fan for—“

“Nope.” Mike interjects, holding up a hand. “Can we talk about the hitters in the bullpen.” He looks between her and the other players on the field.

Ginny shrugs, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket as they make their way across the field to the bullpen.

They’re the first people there before the game. Mike and Ginny are the starting pitcher and catcher, it makes sense that no one else would be out there yet.

What doesn’t make sense is Mike Lawson lacing a strong hand behind her neck and hauling her towards him in a way that forces her hat to fall to the dirt. Ginny squirms, shrieking as Mike’s lips descend towards her own.

He gets a corner of her mouth and then a swift knee to the balls from Ginny.

The blow is deafened by the fact that a catcher would have to be crazy to play without wearing a cup, but nonetheless, Mike’s gasping and crumpling to his knees before her with a pathetic and hurt whine.

“You son of a bitch.” Ginny spits at him. “You think you can cop a feel just because I’m on your team?”

Mike’s still gasping, both of his hands covering his area of injury as he rolls to the side, into the dirt. “Thought it would be okay—“

“Because you’re Mike Lawson, because women throw their panties at you from the stands? Because you think you have every right to sexually harass me?” Ginny spits at him, looking around for anyone that might have seen what just happened. She’s gotta get out of here and tell Amelia what happened.

Mike reels on the ground, staring up at her in shock. “What? No!” he protests.

“Then why? Hazing?” Ginny growls, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Because your bottom lip is pinker than the top one.” Mike fires back, exasperation ringing in his voice. He looks anguished, and bordering on hurt there on the ground before her. “Don’t you see it too?” he asks her, raising his hands and motioning all around him.

There’s suddenly a lump in her throat the size of a baseball. She swallows against it, reminding herself of all of the times this has been the come-on. That she was so beautiful someone finally saw color.

“Yeah.” Ginny replies harshly, taking a step back, putting her back against the wall of the bullpen.

Mike raises his head, letting it fall back at he stares up at the sky. His hat falls off, landing with a dull impact on the ground.

“So that’s what blue is.” Mike says softly, running a hand through his hair. The warm coil of apprehension in Ginny’s belly winds itself even tighter. “You see it too?”

“Yes.” Ginny tells him sharply again.

“Wow. Okay.” Mike sighs, sitting down more fully on the ground. “You don’t seem as shocked as I am right now. You have quite the poker face, Ginny Baker.”

Ginny shakes her head, “This isn’t new to me—“

“Well it is to me.” Mike fixes his gaze on her now. “And it’s because of you, it all came to life when I saw—“

“Your face!” Ginny exclaims. She feels weak-kneed and not totally unlike when colors came to life for her five years ago. “You were at bat. I could see your face. You weren’t wearing your catchers mask.” Her lungs are burning with the need to take in as much oxygen as possible.

“Hey.” Mike cuts through the way she’s sort of losing it. “It’s okay. You gotta breathe.”

He’s sitting there on the ground now, one hand outstretched in an uncertain way.

“This is impossible.” She says, because maybe if she says it, it will become possible.

“Yeah, It’s a little Twilight Zone.” Mike reassures her. “I didn’t mean to uh—assault you. I thought you were just playing it cool.”

Ginny scoffs. “Never in my life have I been cool.”

Mike laughs at that.

“Good.” He tells her. “I’ve got that in spades.”

Ginny rolls her eyes. She calms herself for a moment. “You’re not messing with me? You can see it too?”

Mike struggles to stand up, but he eventually does, crossing to her. He picks her hat up off the ground and holds it out to her. “White.” He says, pointing at the ‘S’ on the front. “Orange.” Mike touches the ‘D’, “and blue.” Mike finishes, his hand brushing over the top of it, getting rid of the dirt there.

He holds the hat up, giving her a moment to stop him. She doesn’t.

Mike carefully presses the hat to the top of her head, guiding it back to its proper place.

“Looks good on you.” He tells her, smiling. His teeth are a perfect line of white.

Ginny’s hat is knocked to the ground again as she hauls him in with two of her hands fisted into the front of his jersey. He makes a surprised sound against her lips, and then relaxes, an arm curling around her.

She feels like she’s untensing for the first time in years. Because Mike Lawson’s kissing her back and when he pulls away to breathe he says, “Please don’t knee me in the balls again. You have flecks of gold in your eyes.”

“So do you.” Ginny tells Mike.

Since it happened, Ginny thought she was cursed to know that she was in the presence of her soulmate only to never meet them. But maybe she had to leave, carve out a life and a career for herself before she could come back. And maybe Mike wasn’t ready for this, but right now he looks pretty damn relieved at the prospect of seeing the world in color.

There’s a rough road ahead. She knows it the instant they have to break apart before Buck lumbers into view. Ginny feels the same old fear grip her at the thought that the team won’t respect her especially if she’s--sleeping with—soulmates with Mike.

“We’ll figure it out.” Mike tells her, reassuringly. He thumbs her bottom lip. “Pinker now.”

She can feel herself blushing.

And they do figure it out eventually.

Ginny gets to share this world of color with Mike Lawson. She gets to tell him he looks terrible in mustard yellow, accept a dozen red roses on Valentines Day, and select the perfect orange-red nectarines in the grocery store while he complains about the price of produce.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I love Kudos and comments!


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